


Fat Stacks (Of Pancakes and Paperwork)

by locusdesperatus



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Desk Sex, F/M, Light Bondage, Oral Sex, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-11
Updated: 2020-02-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:07:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22661482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/locusdesperatus/pseuds/locusdesperatus
Summary: A request from my curiouscat-Leon has work to do. You help him out, and he's quick to show his gratitude.
Relationships: Leon S. Kennedy/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 38





	Fat Stacks (Of Pancakes and Paperwork)

Leon's office was usually immaculate, papers organized into neat piles, file folders stacked and put away in tall cabinets, pens and pencils gathered in a cup he got from the office Christmas party. It was a gag gift, a cheap ceramic thing that read "world's best dog mom". You thought for sure that he'd throw it away, but months later, it remained in a place of honor on his desk. The desk itself was nice, nicer than the ones out in the bullpen. You suspected it had been a special order, maybe something he'd bought himself. It was heavy, with thick legs and a polished sheen over the hardwood top. The drawer handles were brass, and the whole thing gave off a classy noir vibe. It really made him look like an old school detective, you thought, when he was hunched behind it, working on mission reports. You could perfectly invision him in a three piece suit, trenchcoat, and fedora. Maybe even smoking a pipe, although he wrinkled his nose at even the smell of tobacco. 

Regardless, you were shocked when you pushed open the door one day to find him standing in the middle of a flurry of paperwork. He looked frazzled, hair mussed, shirt half untucked, and tie loose around his neck. 

"Did a tornado hit?" You asked, quickly handing him the cup of coffee you'd brought. He sipped it slowly, eyes unfocused. 

"They're auditing all my files. I have to write reports on the reports." He sounded defeated, staring down at the copy paper strewn across the carpeting. 

"I'll help." You immediately volunteered. Seeing him so stressed, so anxious, worried you. 

"Come on, I'm sure you don't want to be stuck-"

"You won't be nearly as fun to tease if you go insane from huffing printer ink." You said. "I'm helping." When he sighed in defeat, you hopped onto his desk, grabbing a pen and picking up a stack of paper. It was a report from a mission in the Eastern Slav Republic, one that you'd heard him mention in passing. Briefly, you wondered how revisiting all his missions would make him feel. You would guess poorly, but Leon was constantly surprising you, so you didn't dare place your bet.

"So… what are we doin' here, chief?" You asked.

"Uh," He ran a hand through his hair, tangling it further. You appreciated the opportunity to ogle him, and speaking up about his cowlicks would only ruin that. "Organizing by date, first." His voice made you look up from the strip of skin peeking out from the top of his dress shirt. Thankfully, he was much too absorbed in the mess to notice your leering.

"Date. Got it." You set the first report aside, picking up another. It was dated even farther back. You got the sinking feeling that this was going to take a long while.

"You should head home." Leon insisted for the fourth time. It was nearly 9 o'clock, far past your usual clock out, and encroaching on your post-dinner Netflix bingeing.

"What, and let you have all the fun?" You were sure you looked just as exhausted as he did by this point. The piles of reports had lessened, organized into neat stacks. Only the boxes on his desk remained, daunting in their own right.

"Hah." He shook his head. "In all seriousness, I feel like I owe you dinner for this one. I'd have gone nuts by now trying to do this on my own."

"You're already nuts. Dinner sounds nice, though." You perched on his desk again, running your hand over the smooth wood. 

"And then after dinner?"

You raised an eyebrow, trying to gauge what he was playing at. He was smirking, face half hidden behind his bangs. 

"If you're asking for something, Mr. Kennedy, you're going to have to be a bit more direct than that." You crossed your arms, letting him watch your eyes rake over his body. 

"Or maybe before dinner." He took a step closer, tucking his pencil behind his ear. It shouldn't have been so attractive.

"Dessert first?" You asked, allowing him to move between your legs, as much as your skirt would allow. Leon nodded, leaning in closer. You surprised him, grabbing onto his tie and using it to yank him forward. He huffed at the roughness, the noise swallowed up by how you were kissing him. Not to be outdone, he pushed the boxes off the desk, uncaring for how they spilled onto the floor. Eagerly, he groped your thighs, sliding his thumbs over the fabric of your nylons. A soft moan escaped you, and in revenge, you tugged on his hair, reminding him that you wouldn't be so easily outdone. 

"You play dirty, huh?" Leon whispered, loosening his tie further so he could pull it over his head. "I can play dirty too. Lie on your back." He snapped his fingers at you, and you had half a mind to be pissed, though his commanding attitude was sending little shivers up and down your spine. He took your wrists, guiding them up and over your head. Craning your neck, you watched him loop his tie around the leg of the desk before securing each end to your arms. You tugged on the makeshift bindings, grinning when they held.

"You don't mind if I ruin this tie, do you?" Your voice sounded breathy, even to your own ears. That infuriating smirk crossed his face again, and he moved back between your legs, pushing your skirt up your thighs and over your hips. 

"You don't mind if I ruin these tights, do you?" He asked in return. You rolled your eyes at him. His cockiness was a turn on, for sure, but he was testing the limits of how endearing it could be. Cold fingers distracted you, pulling at your nylons until they ripped, creating long runs down your thighs.

"You were serious." You met his gaze, taken aback at how lust-dark his expression was. He simply nodded, pulling your underwear down as far as it would go, trapped in the ruined fabric. Hooking your legs over his shoulders, he knelt down, breath hot on your hips a moment before his tongue swiped over your clit. Your startled moan only encouraged him, and he busied himself, hands squeezing your thighs as he worked his tongue up and down in a steady motion. He made a noise, a little groan, muffled against you. On its own, it wouldn't have been quite as hot, but combined with the flush on his cheeks, and how eagerly he was eating you out, it sent a shiver through you. 

"Fuck." Leon pulled back to breath, locking eyes with you before burying his face between your legs again. You arched your back, gasping. He was toying with you now, one of his fingers rubbing gently at your entrance while he lapped over your clit. 

"Leon!" You hissed, mouth dropping open when his finger rubbed up against your walls, slow and easy at first. He was determined to break you apart, you could tell from his pace and enthusiasm. Truth be told, he was succeeding in that endeavor.

You clenched your stomach as the pleasure built, tugging on the tie around your wrists. It stretched and strained, but didn't break, the soft material rubbing into your skin. If you weren't careful, you'd end up with some hard-to-explain bruising. Another finger slipped in beside the first, and you jerked in surprise. He was moving faster now, more deliberately, and with much more focus. The sight of him so concentrated on you, his brow furrowed and eyes closed, ensured that you wouldn't last much longer.

You found soliloquies extraordinarily boring, especially those written by pulp fiction romance authors. Waxing poetic about your lover's kiss and the intricacies of love-making just made you nod off. However, after experiencing the long, slow orgasm wrung from your body by those devilish fingers and tongue, you had to give those poor, underpaid authors a hand. Maybe they were on to something with all their talk of "hot, vibrating need" this and "pulsing core" that. Or maybe it was still just bad, bad writing and you were high on endorphins. 

"Hey." Fingers snapped in front of your face.

"Huh?"

"You okay?" Leon looked alarmed, eyes wide. "You zoned out on me."

"I'm fantastic." You sighed. "Same time next week?"

He laughed, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"I was hoping for a repeat later tonight, after some dinner. Denny's is still open and pancakes are on me."

What were you supposed to do, turn down free food?

"As soon as you untie me."

"Oh, right." Leon freed your hands, rubbing the marks where the tie had dug in a little too far. He surveyed the mess of his office while you straightened your clothes, peeling off the ruined nylons. Doing some quick math, you figured the cost of the tights was outweighed by both free pancakes and orgasms. Leon should count himself lucky that you were easily swayed by the promise of food.

"This is going to take all week." He complained, picking up his coat.

"Well, at least we have something to look forward to." You teased, watching his brain tick as he caught up with your train of thought. "But next time," You tugged on his belt, pulling him towards the door. "I'd like more than just your fingers, Mr. Kennedy."

"Only if you ask nicely."

There would be plenty of time for niceness later, you mused. Plenty of overtime and evenings spent bent over that wonderful desk. You briefly wondered if it was worth extending the amount of paperwork to be done.

"Whatever you say, Mr. Kennedy."

**Author's Note:**

> Twitter: @pointofdespair
> 
> curiouscat.me/locusdesperatus


End file.
